


Future and Family

by ShianneUrami



Series: Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2014 [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Egg laying trolls, Feraltrolls, Mention of Death, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShianneUrami/pseuds/ShianneUrami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dolorosa&Signless<br/>Feralstuck AU: They look after the grubs together while the rest of their pack is out hunting/foraging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future and Family

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [BR3 prompt.](http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/19475.html?thread=5659411#cmt5659411)

“Mm, Ma no!” Karkat whined, pawing at his matron’s face. Signless was trying to clean him up with a little water and a cloth, he was dirty from romping around earlier and still had food on his cheeks from eating.  
  
Sign made a soft hissing sound, short and sharp and Karkat looked up at him. Signless tapped the end of his nose, “Stop fussing or I’ll lick you clean.”  
  
More squirming and soft whimpering before he gave up and went limp in Sign’s arms, huffing quietly. He hated bathtime, but he hated the feel of his matron’s tongue on his skin. Gross. He didn’t squirm, but he did whine now and then while Signless cleaned him up. In a small basket beside them was a few tattered blankets, durable but old at this point, with two little grubs nestled inside, sleeping curled up against one another. Nepeta and Mituna.  
  
After Karkat was cleaned up he set the wiggler down in the grass next to him, handing him a scrap of meat, the last from the recent hunts. It’s where his beloved Disciple was, and his loyal Psiioniic were, out getting tonight and tomorrow’s meal hopefully. He wished them well on the hunt, but had been worried about Psii going. He’d be alright though, he was with Disciple and if any of this little ragtag band of renegades could hold their own and defend their kin, it was her.  
  
His eyes lingered on his little one beside him eating contentedly. Karkat was getting blood on his face and his carapace, which Sign would have to clean up again. He sighed internally for his lack of foresight. His eyes drifted down the path to the creek that ran by their camp, bubbling away, water against the rocks and bank. He smiled to see his own matron down by the water’s edge, washing some of their clothes while the other two wigglers played tag around her. The third grub sat perched on her shoulder, snuggled against her neck and hair.  
  
Dolorosa stood up to wring out the cloth she had in hand, watching the dirt and grime of their lives wash down the creek, more pain and hardships washed away for now. A short click and the two wigglers skittered to a stop, blinking up at her with smiles. One was a Jade like herself, the other was an Olive. Porrim and Meulin. She smiled and offered an hand to beckon them closer, the pincers around her mouth twitching just a bit as she crouched down, tail sweeping around her feet to let them come in for hugs.  
  
They stumbled over, tripping over their own feet before nuzzling at her, Meulin nearly knocking the grub off Rosa’s shoulder. He squeaked and clung to her, but she scooped him off her shoulder easily and held him close to her chest, chirring softly. He settled easily. Kankri.  
  
She rubbed her cheeks against the cheeks of the two little ones, Porrim was her own, she had been dam for this darling, and Meulin was her little Sign’s offspring. She mingled their scents, reasserting that they were a pack, they were a family. The four of them, Rosa, Disc, Psii and Sign had been long time companions, and relations within the four of them was not uncommon, especially considering heats and they were more or less a pack. Technical travelling companions, but they’d all more or less been matron and patron to each other’s offspring.  
  
After one too many close encounters with people who wished ill on them, but especially the mutants of their pack, they’d settled down more. Signless still gave sermons when he could, but they set up camp for longer periods of time, stuck closer to camp, and took less risks. They had tiny lives to look after now, lives that had survived nearly against all odds.  
  
Three wigglers, three grubs, and a clutch on the way. They could never be certain if there would be any survivors in the clutch of course, but they always hoped so. It was nice having a pack family like they did. It was nice to protect something, teach something, share something. And with all these little sparks of life, they did just that and more.  
  
Dolorosa leaned over to pick up the basket with all the damp clothes in it, brushing her loose skirts around her, her tail sweeping behind her she stood up. She steadied Kankri on her shoulder again and chirped at the babies to follow along. Both Porrim and Meulin smiled up at her before grabbing a handful of skirt each and walked back up the slope toward their camp with her, sticking close.   
  
They had long since passed learned their lesson of letting wigglers run ahead to catch up with other members of the pack, they’d lost one to roaming lusii earlier in the sweep. Just like with the eggs that never hatched and the grubs who didn’t survive the fight with their kin, those whose cocoons never opened, and those who fall ill or to prey like that one did, there isn’t time to mourn the dead, and chins have to be held high. When every plant and animal wants to eat you, something there is very little exaggeration in, you have to keep alert and the weight and burden and sorrow of the dead can’t weigh you down.  
  
Dolorosa stepped past the low crackling fire with the three little ones in tow, putting a finger to her lips, a sign for the two wigglers clinging to her to be quiet as she ducked into the tent. She settled down, her skirts a circle around her before setting Kankri in the basket next to Mituna and Nepeta. They all curled up and chirped softly. Dolorosa smoothed a finger over each velvety head before she smiled up at her own youngling, a still fussy Karkat in his lap.   
  
Sign dipped his head to close his teeth around the back of Karkat’s neck. Without much effort the wiggler went limp in his arms, pupils wide. Signless let him go and said softly, “Go play with your clutchmates, little terror. Psii and Disc should be back soon.”  
  
Karkat huffed at him but skittered off to tackle Porrim and Meulin, giggling quietly with them. Grubs were always deep sleepers, despite Dolorosa’s request for them to be quiet, so the three grubs were sound asleep curled up in the basket. They were the three survivors of two clutches, shocking there were so many who had lived.  
  
Signless leaned over and stroked a claw over tiny heads, noting Mituna and Nepeta were getting round; chubby little things would be pupitating soon. Kankri was younger, and small even for his size, the runt of the litter who’d survived purely for the fact he’d been overlooked, thought to be dead by the other grubs. He was stunted and had a small wheeze, but Signless had high hopes for him. He and Psii had a clutch previous to the clutch Kankri was from, but none had survived. He looked after this one with a close eye.   
  
Karkat though, was just a little horror terror with his hatchmate Meulin, two very rambunctious and very assertive trolls, but Kankri and Karkat were close to him, not just for the fact he was a factor in their production, but because they were mutated like him. His blood ran in their veins, and it showed. He loved them dearly for it, though not more than all the children the pack had come to share. Simply an underlying deeper bond to the both of them.  
  
Sign suspected that Rosa had the same connection with her wiggler, Porrim. Porrim was the only Jade alongside Rosa, but that was understandable, as Jades weren’t very common. In that respect, neither were psionic Yellows, to which Psiioniic was already graced with one. Blood was such a strong bonding agent in their pack, all of the sires and dams loved all of their children the same, but shared special bonds with those of their blood, those who were kin in the hardships of each caste.  
  
“We’ll have to find somewhere safe and stay for a while, you know,” Dolorosa spoke up, though her voice was still soft, sitting on the other side of the basket of little grubs.  
  
He didn’t look up from stroking over horns and cheeks and chubby bodies, “I know.”  
  
“Psii should be laying soon, Mituna and Nepeta will be pupitating soon, and I believe Porrim is showing signs of her first molt. Karkat and Meulin won’t be far behind her, and then we have new wigglers, new grubs, and Kankri likely pupitating after Mituna and Nepeta.”  
  
Dolorosa’s eyes fell on her son’s face, though her eyes were soft. She reached over to him with a gentle hand to brush his scruffy hair out of his eyes, noting he needed to shave soon, she could see his bristles poking through the little plates of carapace on his cheeks. He nuzzled into his matron’s hand gently and smiled up at her, “I know, Matron, I know.”  
  
He looked from the basket of grubs to the wigglers all playing at the other side of the tent, rolling around and getting dirty all over again. Meulin was tugging on Karkat’s hair and he was gnawing on her arm, though not hard enough to draw blood. Porrim was sitting to the side and the indecision to break up the fight was clear on her face. They were left to playfight for now.  
  
“Why don’t we find a place for good, my Signless one,” Dolorosa asked.  
  
Without looking from the wigglers he asked, “For good?”  
  
She smoothed a hand down his arm, “They have long lives ahead of them and your Pilgrimage is a dangerous one for little souls, my dearest blood. They’re not cut out for the road, or for the danger of the highbloods who’ve more and more frequently been invading your speeches and rallies. They’ve been skulking less and more often killing on their way from the sidelines to get to you.”  
  
Dolorosa’s hand turned his chin towards her, so she could look into his eyes, the brightest red she’d ever seen. Brighter than the light of sunrise or sunset, brighter even than the striking red of the Empire above. Breathtaking they were. She stroked her thumb over the scar on his lips, down his chin.  
  
“After the last encounter, I don’t feel it’s safe to continue, my dearest. Psiioniic cannot help you as he normally does when he is gravid, and we almost lost you to their claws last time.”  
  
Signless sighed, picking up a hand to hold his matron’s hand to his cheek, feeling her cooler blood against his warmth before he closed his eyes, “Disciple and Psiioniic have both asked me if we can find a place to call our own for good as well. I know, Matron. I have been considering it, especially with how dangerous it’s been lately. My dreams have been getting darker and more grim, and I feel that is sign enough for me to end this. It’s true we’re unfortunately going to have to put what needs to be done on hold, but they won’t be small forever, and once they are grown and can defend themselves, perhaps I can continue again.”  
  
Dolorosa was silent, she knew her child had more he wanted to say. He always did.  
  
“I don’t regret it though, not one bit.” He lounged back a bit to lean over the basket, smiling fondly down at the little basket of babies between them, “Their faces, their eyes, their questions. When they curl against us from the thunder and run to catch ashes from the fire and lightning bugs from the grass. I could never regret a single one of them.”  
  
Looking back up at his matron he smiled bright, bright as the stars and the snow atop the mountains, “We all have cycles in our lives, we did when we were all tiny, and we do on and on. Our time for danger and theatrics, to defend what is right with fang and claw, it’s over. It might come again, but right now we have a family to look after, a pack to consider. These lives, these miracles, they’re what’s important right now.”  
  
Dolorosa gave him the same fond smile he gave to the grubs in the basin, voice soft, the little warble of tears in the back of her throat, “Does that mean we’ll settle down? The four of us? You know I’ve always said as your Matron I will be by your side in all of your decisions, so if this is true, please tell me truly, are we finally making a home for ourselves?”  
  
Signless nodded, and was caught in a hug, an arm around his neck, pulled close to his matron’s chest, her lips and mandibles in his hair. He trilled happily against her, careful not to crush the babies between them. She laughed against his hair, letting him go, tears in her eyes, “I am so glad, my son.”  
  
Outside the tent a twig snapped and pupils snapped to slits, hackles raised defensively. Signless was on his feet, his fingers lingering in his matron’s for a moment. The wigglers had fallen silent immediately. Creeping toward the mouth of the tent, eyes sharp and ears sharper, he listened for more sound.  
  
“Come on now, Psii. Camp’s here, you can rest your aching feet.”  
  
“Give me a break, Disciple, you’re not the one lugging around like fifty pounds of eggs and mucus and god only knows what else.”  
  
“Eww, Psii can you not? You whine efurry time. I get it, being gravid sucks. But it’s not my fault you like being pinned down a clawful lot.”  
  
“DISC!”  
  
There was a faint crackle, another twig snapping and the melodious giggle, the sly snicker of Signless’ love. Before he had time to poke his head out of the tent to greet them back into their campsite there was the sound of a splash of water across the dirt.  
  
“Well, fuck,” Psii cursed.


End file.
